Theo
The ding of the Zoom call disconnecting is like music to my years. I run a hand through my thick, curly, dark brown hair, which never stays in place no matter how hard I try. There is nothing like starting your morning by talking to three irate CEOs about how to close their bottom line for the quarter.
I made several suggestions, none of which they wanted to listen to. In their eyes, I am too young and impulsive to know what I am doing. But whose business makes a better profit out of all four of us?
Mine, that’s who.
My receptionist line lights up. I am tempted to ignore it, but it could be someone important.
“Yes, Emma?”
“Your mother is calling, Mr. Olivares.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, light hazel eyes rolling in annoyance.
“Should I tell her you’re busy and can’t take her call?”
“No, I did that the last three times. She will not buy it if it happens again.”
Emma sighs. “All right, I’ll send her to your line.”
It lights up. I take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the conversation I am about to have after an exceedingly difficult morning.
“Hello, Mother,” I greet, already regretting having taken the call.
“Mother?” she tuts. “You must be cross with me if you are calling me Mother instead of Mom.”
Damn it. I should have known better, but the conference call rattled me to the point where I was not thinking clearly.
“Mom,” I haughtily correct. “Do you need something urgent, or is this just a call to judge me on my choices?”
“Both.”
I must laugh. “Mom, what is it now?”
“I’m having a get-together with friends next week and was hoping you would attend.”
“Do some of these friends happen to be single women around my age?”
Mother does not say anything, but I know she wouldn’t be inviting me otherwise. She has been all over me to get married because, at thirty-five, I am reaching the point of no return. If I do not marry now, I will never get married and carry on the family name. It is up to me since my other three siblings are sisters.
“I have to work.”
She laughs, but it has a dangerous tone to it. “Theo, darling, you are going to be forty years old before you know it. It is time you took a wife.”
“I’ll take a wife when I’m good and ready.”
“Mom, I must go. Someone is on the other line. I will talk to you later. Love you.”
Before she can argue, I hang up the phone.
No one is on the other line. She knew that, but I did not want to have this conversation for the
thousandth time.
After Dad died when I turned seventeen, I had to grow up very fast. Suddenly, I was the head of the household, and everyone depended on me. It was a lot of pressure for a teenager, but I stepped up because it was what was expected of me. Some would label me a nepo baby who got to where he is because of who my father happened to be. But the truth is I had to prove myself five times more than the others. And now, the business is even more of a success than it was when my father was alive.
Mother is always thinking about the legacy of Olivares. What would my deceased grandfather, Sebastian Olivares, think if I did not carry on the family line? I have a duty to the deceased and living family members to meet a woman worthy of marrying into the family.
I have dated some women over the years. But most were flings, nothing reaching the serious stage. This has driven my mother crazy, and despite her many attempts to set me up, I remain stubbornly single.
But I am pushing forty in a few years and Mother is going to ramp up her campaign to find me a wife. She wants to make sure I marry the right woman and in her words “the more I wait, the less attractive I become and the less time she would spend with her grandchildren.”
Even though two of my three younger sisters already have children Mother spoils rotten. She has gotten to enjoy being a grandparent and likely wants me to have children because I am the head of the family. And my children will be the ones bearing the family name.
I massage my temples as I feel a headache coming on.
Emma is right. I should have had her make up an excuse to get me out of talking to my mother. There are still hours of work ahead of me, with no end in sight until the late afternoon. Grumbling to myself, I pushed all thoughts of my mother out of my mind, determined to get back to work.
When I finally finish the day’s work, the sun is starting to set in the sky. My back aches from sitting hunched over at my desk, going through emails, and making phone calls.
Mother did not try to call me again, but she texted a few times. It is lovely when your parents adapt to the latest technology and start hounding you that way. I put my mother on read, unable to resist chuckling to myself.
I’m unsure if she understands what it means to be left on read, but that did not stop me from doing it.
I leave the office, making sure to lock it behind me. The long hallway is decorated with pictures from the company’s history. My throat tightens when I pass my father’s smiling face, posing in front of the building’s main entrance. I know he would probably agree with Mother, and it is safe to say I have not grieved my father’s death very well over the years. I wanted to make my mother proud, so I focused on what I could control: my grades and college. Seeing my mother grieving was more than enough suffering for me. They were very happy together, but I know that is not for everyone, and it’s maybe even better that way. I never want to suffer the way she did.
Emma’s desk is empty; she always leaves before me. I stay longer than anyone, wanting to get as much done as possible before heading home. Besides, this is the best time for me to work since nobody bothers me with urgent matters. But before I walk away, something on Emma’s desk catches my eye. It is the cover of Trend Monthly, which is mostly a gossip rag. However, the woman on the cover draws my attention to the magazine. She is posed, her lips pursed as she gazes wantonly at the camera. Her raven black locks tumble down her back, and her chocolate brown eyes are full of mischief.
The woman is very attractive, and her dress accentuates her curves. Whoever picked this dress out for her knew what they were doing. “Jasmine Cristal,” I mutter to myself. This is the name next to the woman. I do not have to wrack my brain long to realize how I know the name. The Cristal family is old money. They have billions of dollars in real estate, making them one of the biggest real estate moguls on the planet.
When I flip to the article, it says that Jasmine Cristal is very much single. A smile makes its way onto my face. It is a crazy idea, but it might just work. Jasmine Cristal is beautiful, comes from a good family, and travels in the same circles as I do. According to the magazine interview, she is looking to meet Mr. Right.
I never expected to find a love match. The woman I would eventually become engaged to and marry would be someone I married for convenience. So if I have to marry soon, then at least I will be the one choosing “the one.”
I am far too busy to date, but between that and accepting that my mother finds me a wife, there’s a world of difference.
When I finally got home that evening, my condo was eerily quieter than normal. I can feel the winter vibe. Boston traffic is getting worse, and I wondered if it was from a sudden influx of people or the threats of bad weather on the horizon. Winter hits differently in Boston. On the surface, seeing the snow blanketing the sidewalks and roads is lovely, but driving in it is entirely different.
I kick off my shoes, unceremoniously dropping my suit jacket onto one of my living room chairs. The exhaustion rushing through me is almost unbearable. It has been a difficult week at work. We are trying to complete a new business deal, which always takes work. Neither side wants to concede, so there is a lot of back-and-forth until one of us gives in. But I’m confident it will not be long until I seal the deal; the problem is it also means there is a lot to be done.
My body hits the couch when my phone starts going off. I groan, seeing that my mother is calling again.
“Hello, Mother,” I greet.
She huffs. “This mother crap again?”
“Mom, must we have the same conversation again?”
“Yes. I want to make sure you will come over for dinner next week.”
I roll my eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do, and the answer is no.”
“Theo, the more you resist me, the more persistent I am going to become. Why not indulge me this one time to get me off your back?”
I must hand it to my mom. She is quite a pragmatic woman—probably one of the reasons Dad fell in love with her.
“There’s no need because I have a date this weekend.”
It is Mom’s turn to scoff. “Really?”
“Yes. Do you think I would lie about such a trivial thing, Mother?”
“Then who is this mysterious woman you’re going on a date with?”
I swallow. “Jasmine Cristal.”
It is not very smart of me to mention her name before setting up a date with her, but I want to get my mother off my back, and this is the only way I can think of doing it. Imagine me, a thirty-five-year-old man, still resorting to such tricks. But my mother is a fierce and determined woman. Dirty tricks are necessary.
“Are you telling me you are going on a date with Jasmine Cristal, one of the most eligible women in the state and the world?”
Well, when she puts it that way, it does sound a little ridiculous, and I suddenly catch myself already planning how to do this.
“It is not exactly a date. But I intend to contact her to see if she is interested.”
Mom tuts. “All the more reason to keep your options open and attend my dinner.”
“If Jasmine Cristal refuses to go on a date, I’ll go to your dinner, Mother.”
“All right, I’ll play your game.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Thank you, bye.”